Maybe we're just saving each other?
by bob's your teapot
Summary: When Claire makes her way to The Garrison in the search of a new life she meets Michael Gray, who not so long ago was doing the same thing.
1. Chapter 1

Smoothing out her dress and taking a deep breath she opened the door to a pub called The Garrison. Ad in the paper said they were looking for a new barmaid. It didn't pay much but Claire was in no position to argue over wage. Money was money and right now even the smallest bit was better than nothing. It was nicer than she imagined that it would be and she couldn't help but wonder why there weren't more people after the job. Okay the area seemed darker than most places, but judging from back where she came from it seemed like a palace.

The man behind the bar seemed out of place, he should have been on the other side by the look of him. Dressed in a three piece suit his greasy hair slicked backwards. 'Ginger' she thought, if his hair wasn't dirty she was positive he'd be a redhead. He had a mustache and a scar under his left eye and she could tell by the sniff he'd just done that was he on drugs of some kind. Maybe he wasn't as well kept as first appearances would lead to believe?

"Can I help you?" The red head asked. "Yeah, maybe you can. I'm here for the barmaid job, there was an ad in the paper?" Claire was surprised by how Irish her voice sounded compared to his deep, northern one. She never really paid attention to her accent before but now that she was surrounded by people who talked differently to her, every syllable sounded out of place. "I'm not hiring you'll need to find my brother and he's not here 'till tomorrow. Come back."

Turning his back to her she sensed that he wanted her to leave, but she needed this job and had no intention of leaving until she got it. "Look… sorry I never got your name, I know you said you aren't the one doing the hiring but is there a place I can go and find your brother? I need this job and I'm afraid I can't go anywhere else until I have it. So either you tell me where I can find your brother or you're stuck with me bothering you until he shows up."

"Look, Ireland, I know you're obviously not from around here or else you wouldn't fucking speak to me the way you just have so I'm going to let it pass this time. My name is Arthur Shelby. That means nothing to you right now I assume but it will and if you really want this job you'd better treat me with some fucking respect. Now, pull me a pint. None of that Guinness bollocks, a real pint. You're in England now."


	2. Chapter 2

Claire had been there for three days the first time she met Michael Gray. She was still on a probation period because her boss, Mr Thomas Shelby was suspicious of the pretty, Irish barmaid although he never said why.

"Do you know what it is that we do, Claire?" He asked her on her second day. She hadn't been there very long but she noticed things. Things she had been running away from back home.

"I have a fair idea Mr Shelby. But I'm not interested in whatever it is you _actually_ do. I'm here to pull pints and make a new way for myself. Your family doesn't seem all that different from mine." He raised his eyebrows silently, taking a pull of his cigarette and observed the brown haired young woman in front of him.

She was quiet enough but she had a strength behind her eyes that Tommy recognized immediately. He had given her the job without an interview. Not because he was attracted to her but because he saw power in her that maybe he could use one day. He never pried into her family and she never gave anything away. Nodding as he got up, he had a meeting with Michael that was due to start soon and no meeting was complete without gin.

Right on time the doors swung open and in came Michael, coat in hand and a confused look on his face. Pointing to Claire he asked "who's this then?" giving her a once over he was certain he'd never seen her before.

"I'm Claire Riley and you are?" trying to hide her disdain for the young man who overlooked her completely. She had never taken to being talked down to and she wasn't going to start now.

She couldn't have described her feeling for this person she had just met but it was overwhelming. Looking at him made her mouth dry and knees shake but she also wanted to hit him for talking about her as if she wasn't in the room. He was to be avoided and could only end in trouble. Never breaking eye contact the cocky shit raised an eyebrow at her and Claire made a mental note that he and Tommy must be related.

"Michael"

Between Claire and Michael lost in their own world and Tommy observing with an amused expression on his face nobody noticed the distraught looking woman enter until it was too late. With a gun raised she called for their attention. Pointing it straight at Michael, Claire didn't have time to think. Taking two steps in front of Michael she raised her arms to block him, plotting a way to get out of this unharmed.


	3. Chapter 3

The woman's name was Myra Turpin. Her son Andy had been killed by an unknown person two months before but Myra knew exactly who had killed her child. Andy was recently married with two young children, both under the age of 7. His wife, unable to cope had been committed to an asylum just after Claire had arrived in Birmingham. She had seen the poor, young woman walking the streets, pissed off her head talking at anyone who would let her about conspiracies and murder.

"Move out of the way. He murdered my boy." Myra shouted at Claire.

Her hands were shaking and the gun could go off at any minute, more than likely not shooting anywhere near Michael but if Claire could help it nobody was going to get hurt. This was exactly why she had left Dublin.

The Troubles were worse than they had ever been and her family was right at the centre of it, but Thomas Shelby wasn't to know that. She had been trained for circumstances like these and had done this many times for her brothers in the past.

But, she didn't know Michael. Why was her instinct to protect him?

"I'm not going to argue with you over that because I don't know the answer to it one way or the other. But I'm going to ask you something. I've seen you around with those grandchildren of yours. What are their names?"

"James and Charlotte. Don't you _dare_ threaten my…"

"James and Charlotte, that's right. They're beautiful and you're all they have right now. Their father is dead and their mother is mad. If you shoot him they lose you too.

I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm not. If some lowlife murdered my child you bet your life I'd kill them too but think of James and Charlotte. They need you. What happens to them if you go to prison?"

Myra though her options and as she hesitated Claire spoke again.

"You have every right to want Michael dead but this isn't right. I won't patronise you with blood money and tell you he's going to give you something because that will never take back what you're saying he took. Raise your grandchildren to live differently. Show them an example of goodness and that it can exist."

Slowly Myra dropped the gun and Claire walked towards her with her arms still raised, just in case. As she began to sob Claire hugged her. Feeling both relieved and sad for the shell of human life that she held in her arms.

Signalling to Michael to make himself scarce, she showed Myra to the door. Promising her that she wasn't alone and that Claire would stop round for a cup of tea one of the days. She didn't know what else to say.

Locking the door behind her she was suddenly aware of the two Shelby men behind the bar. "What the fuck was that?" Michael asked her, trying to sound calm but the slight shake of his hands gave away his fear.

Ignoring him, she spoke to Tommy. "You asked me the other day what it was I thought you did Mr Shelby and I told you I wasn't interested. My family isn't that different to yours. That doesn't answer much but that's all I'm giving you. I'm going to have a large gin now and try not to vomit if you don't mind."

Stepping aside Tommy let her pass. _This was going to be very interesting._


	4. Sorry it's been so long Little filler

Wiping the counter for the third time that afternoon, Claire found herself trying her utmost to stay awake. She had trouble sleeping these days because all of dreams consisted of him.

Every night was the same; she would dream she was in a forest, screaming out to the void and through clearing he would appear, wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be alright.

She always woke bolt upright, out of breath and sweating. She would rather have sex dreams about him. At least they had no feelings attached.

It was his eyes. His face gave nothing away but his eyes said everything. He was cocky and believed fully in his ability to run 'The Business'. He was dangerous and not to be trusted, but he was also a very sheltered child deep down. She knew by how he carried himself that he had no hardship growing up. They never said where he came from but she imagined he grew up in the country somewhere.

She imagined the poor mammy he must have left behind. He was Polly's son alright, but someone cradled him as a baby, taught him to walk, how to ride a bike. Why would he walk away from all of that, for this?

Didn't he know it was going to kill him eventually?

A tap on the counter brought her back to reality. It was Tommy. "You've been cleaning that spot for 5 minutes. You'd want to be careful, Claire. People would think you were thinking and we've enough people 'round here with ideas."

Taking a pull of his cigarette he reviewed her. He knew she wasn't what she seemed but he couldn't put his finger on it. All that business with Myra had made him suspicious but he didn't pry. He had bigger things to concentrate on.

He knew that she wasn't a spy, or working for the government like Grace had been when she walked through the doors. Claire never pried, or tried to seduce him. She was the only person outside of his immediate family who looked him in the eye when she answered him and she wasn't afraid of him.

She would make a nice wife for Michael. He wasn't a big believer in love, especially these days but even he could see they would work. She would keep him straight and he wouldn't play around. He'd come home to her every night and she's give him some children. Even Polly liked her.

If only he could get them to talk. John had tried his best to bring them to his house for dinner to try and push it but they wouldn't go. Ada told them to leave it alone, they'd find their way by themselves, but they weren't the 'leave it alone' type of family.

"Careful, Tommy. People will think you're thinking." Mocked Claire, bringing him back to the moment. He had a meeting to go to so he couldn't stay and mock her in return but there was time for that. He had a funny feeling she was going to be a big part in his life for a long time.

There was plenty of time to mock her in the future.


	5. Chapter 5

Every Friday at 7pm like clockwork, Isaiah and Michael would stroll through the doors of The Garrison like kings.

"What'll it be, lads?" she asked the grinning faces looking back at her. They always looked so damn pleased with themselves.

"Ah come now, sweetheart. You've been here long enough to know what I like." Taunted the taller of the two. While there was never anything physical between them, Isaiah was a fan of flirting with Claire. Both knew it was harmless and he had taken to her like a brother.

Claire had taken an instant liking to Isaiah. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met before. Obviously the colour of his skin was a factor but it was also in how he carried himself, how he treated people, how he talked to her. He had never once asked her anything personal, never gawked at her like she was on show at a museum.

There had been an incident three months before when a man had cornered her in the dark side of the bar and tried to rape her. Isaiah broke it up and 2 hours later that man 'accidentally' set himself on fire and died of his injuries. It was never confirmed how the accident happened, but she had her suspicions.

"Something cold to balance out how hot you are?" she grinned. Every week since she got there his answer was always the same.

Laughing, she turned to Michael. Unlike his friend he changed his drink quite regularly depending on the week he'd had and how much trouble he felt like getting in. Whiskey made him angry, but gin made him sweet.

She'd seen him whisper sweet nothings into poor, unsuspecting girls ears after a night of gin. Giggling on his lap, they loved the idea of fucking a gangster and he was more than happy to oblige. She wanted to rip their heads off and hang them on her bedroom wall.

"Gin, please Claire" was all he said as he turned his back to survey the room. Finding a group of curious country girls they took their drinks with them as they unleashing their charm.

'poor things' laughing to herself Claire moved on to serve new customers, putting all thoughts of Michael having sex with someone that wasn't her out of her mind.

Locking the doors behind her she wanted nothing more than to sleep. Polly insisted on someone walking her home after lockup. It wasn't safe for a young woman to walk through the streets by herself at night, but Claire was insistent. She wasn't a possession to be protected. She assured Polly that she appreciated the care but she didn't need it, although if she wanted help she had no problem asking for it.

Hearing her name she turned around. Trying to regulate her breathing she laughed when he realised it was Michael.

"I told Pol I didn't need protecting. Go back to wherever you were." She grinned at him, only half meaning what she was saying.

"She didn't ask me to come. It's not safe for a pretty young woman to walk home by herself at night. The streets are full of gangsters, didn't you know that?" holding out his arm to her, she looped hers through and tried to smell gin, or any form of alcohol coming from him but got nothing.

She hadn't given him much to drink this evening, but she didn't know where they went when he and Isaiah left for further mischief a couple of hours before.

Getting to her door they slowed down. It was a literal 5 minute walk from her front door to The Garrison and she could see it from where they were standing but it felt as if time had slowed down and it took them forever to get there.

She turned to face him and shook his hand goodnight. He didn't move.

"Michael?"

"Fuck it"

Taking her face in his hands he kissed her. Gently and slowly he kissed her with need and intent. Her body lit on her fire as she tried to keep to his slow pace. Unlike she had seen him do previously; his right hand didn't go further than her waist, keeping his left on her cheek. There was no trace of alcohol from him, nothing to indicate that he was under the influence.

This was him sober.

She wanted nothing more than to grab him inside but something kept her rooted to the spot. Neither of them moved and eventually slow, deep breaths sounded the air between them.

"Do you want to come inside?"


	6. Chapter 6 - Things get mildly sexy

She closed the door behind them, suddenly feeling awkward. Draping her coat across the sofa she felt as if the air was so thick she might drown. Throwing all her sensitivities out the window she crossed the gap between, grabbing him before he could unbutton his coat. Helping him take it off they stumbled up the stairs half dressed, not knowing or caring where their clothes landed.

His hands were warm against her skin. They weren't rough like the men she had known back home but he gripped her enough to let her know she was very much wanted. Hands in his hair she sucked in air as he felt her where she needed him most.

They spent most of the night whispering into each others skin. Calling out to deities neither believed in but they felt so good it was all they could think to say. They spat out their names, spilling them into the curtains, this room would never be clean of him again.

As he finished he edged her closer to where she desperately needed to go.

When it was all over he stayed. He didn't turn over or rush off to find his shoes. He put his arms around her and kissed her shoulder.

"You don't have to stay, you know"

"I know. Go to sleep, I've to be at a meeting tomorrow on time or Tommy'll have me sacked."

As the room got brighter she felt his chest rise and fall with sleep but she was wide awake. _How could she never act normal around him again? Did this mean anything to him? Did he stay in strangers beds often?_

But she wasn't a stranger. She had known him for a year, but men were funny creatures and she wasn't sure how it was going to play out. He was a Shelby after all.


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning he was gone.

She tried not to be disappointed but she could feel it settle in her bones. He did have a meeting with Tommy that morning, he had told her the night before. It may have been about the strange bruises on his ribs and the cuts on his knuckles. Wherever he and Isaiah had disappeared off to the night before was obviously more than just two lads on a night out. Work had become involved.

She was not stupid she knew full well that they did on their off time although realistically speaking there was no off time. Being a Peaky Blinder was all consuming and even Claire had found herself sinking further in as time had gone on. She was like a fish desperately swimming against the current; tired and foolish.

She was not needed in work that night so she, Polly and Ada were off for a day of shopping. Neither of the two was involved in this meeting, which was strange as they agreed everything as a family. If it had anything to do with Michael or something that put his life at risk Polly would have no hesitations about shooting every last one of them and everyone knew it, especially Tommy. Pol would no doubt make a better leader than Tommy but Claire was smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

Tommy had asked her for a few favours over the past couple of months and she had done some drop offs for him. Money was money and she was not one to ask where it came from. Or nosey enough to wonder what was in those brown packages she gave respectable men on street corners in the middle of the afternoon.

Fixing her hair she noticed a letter had been dropped through her door. Curiously she picked it up as she never got letters. Curiosity turned to dizziness and nausea as she recognised the handwriting immediately. It had come from home.

How did they know where she was? She never told anyone she was leaving, let alone where she was going. Hell, she wasn't even sure where she was heading when she got off the boat and was planning for London had she not seen the ad in the paper looking for a barmaid.

With shaking hands she opened the letter her father had written to her.

 _Claire,_

 _There's a storm coming your way. Lock up your doors and stay inside. Do not chase it under any circumstance. We know you like danger but some winds are not worth getting caught up in._

 _Stay away and stay safe. I can't protect you from here._

 _Dad_

A storm coming? That couldn't possibly mean what she thought it meant? The secret family meetings, Tommy using Claire to do drop offs... because she has an Irish accent. It all began falling into place.

 _Oh god, please no… Not this. Not again._

Tommy has no idea what he's getting himself involved in. She has to talk to him before they all end up dead. He probably wouldn't listen to her but she had to explain what she knew.. who she knew before the whole thing got wildly out of hand.

Just what was Tommy playing at?


	8. When John Died (side chapter) - updated

_**(** **I'm aware this isn't very good! But I've started a masters and fiction writing has been replaced with essay writing so I'm trying to get back into the swing of it. Sorry again!)**_

When John died it seemed as if the light in the others died with him. There were plans to make sure those who deemed him unworthy of life would pay for taking a husband from his wife. Taking a father from his children most of who would grow up too young to remember him.

Esme howled as if there was deep, guttural pain that could only be quashed by screaming. She swore if she ever saw Thomas Shelby ever again she would gut him slowly. She saw him more regularly as time went by because they had to stick together. She hadn't killed him yet but only because he had a son. During the day she put on a brave face for her children but at night her cries filled the halls of the house they all occupied. Wailing like a banshee there was nothing anyone could do to calm her. She had lost her light.

Arthur grew frightening. His brother who he had loved and fought beside in the war was gone. Taken from them all by men who he did not know. John survived one foreign army but had died at the hands of another. He paced up and down like a feral animal. He listened to only Ada. She too had a lost her brother and if they all took a moment, to be honest with themselves he was the favourite brother.

Everyone had always loved John. He would cut you in a minute but he had a warmth about him the others only wished to possess. He could win anyone on side with a wink and a smile and even Tommy could not get people to like or trust him the way John could.

He was the heart that kept them beating. The others played their part, yes and they played it well. Everyone knew their role and where they fit in the family but John was the glue that kept those parts in place. In the quiet of their own souls nobody knew just exactly what they were going to be without him. But they knew there was going to be hell to pay.


End file.
